


Taste of Silver

by Kivea



Category: South Park
Genre: Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Weddings, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: “Were you serious?”Kenny stopped, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up with wide eyes, waiting for the rest of the sentence from his dark haired friend so he had context for whatever the hell he was being asked.“Would you...fake being my boyfriend to get my mom off my back?”
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Taste of Silver

The topic had come up during a conversation in their group chat. Kenny was at work, a slow day working in a kitchen as he tapped away at his phone screen. He would pause in typing to laugh at Kyle and Cartman’s arguments, enjoying his normal day. 

The topic in question was Stan’s mom. Specifically, the fact that she had set him up on another date. The complaint was long and whiny and every bit what he’d come to expect from Stan. He gave a find eye roll as he read the words in his screen and tried to picture who it was that Sharon Marsh had deemed capable of dealing with her son this time. 

It was something out of a romantic comedy the way it played out. Who’s parent _actually_ played matchmaker? Sharon Marsh at that, who’d always had her hands full between her nightmare daughter and equally nightmarish husband to worry about Stan’s love life of all things. 

Butters had been the instigator. 

_ You should find yourself someone_, he had said. _That way she’ll stop setting you up with strangers._

Cartman couldn’t help but chime in with the astute observation of, _if it was that easy he’d have someone but no one wants his depressing ass._

It sparked another argument.

_ What about a fake-date, then? Like in those movies.  _

_ I can’t just hire someone to date me. _Stan had argued. _Who’d agree to that??_

Kenny was typing faster than his brain could keep up. _Depends on how much cash money ur willing to throw out._

_ Kenny’ll do anything for $5, _Cartman said. _Right Kenny???_

Before the blonde had a chance to really process the question, one of the wait staff poked her head in to announce he had an order, and he was preparing to put his phone away. 

It was how he ended up typing two words that he would come to regret into the chat window:

_ Hell yeah ;)  _

\--

“Were you serious?”

Kenny stopped, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up with wide eyes, waiting for the rest of the sentence from his dark haired friend so he had context for whatever the hell he was being asked. 

“Would you...fake being my boyfriend to get my mom off my back?”

They were at some bar, and Stan had offered to join Kenny outside when he stood to have a smoke. Leaving Kyle and Cartman alone was always a risk that they had to take sometimes, and occasionally ended with them being kicked out of places. He hadn’t really questioned why Stan was willing to take that risk today. He probably should have. 

He lit the cigarette, took one long drag, then blew smoke straight in Stan’s face. 

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Don’t you what the fuck me,” Kenny barked back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The group chat the other day. Cartman said you’d do anything for five bucks and you said hell yeah. We’re you serious?”

“I mean, I was joking, but I didn’t realise the question I was being asked was serious,” Kenny admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Stan grimaced as he turned his gaze away. 

“Why? Are _you_ serious?”

“I may have done a thing.”

“Oh my god, stop vague posting at me, what did you do?”

Stan groaned as he rubbed a hand across his face, and Kenny _swore_ he saw the man’s cheeks begin to darken. 

Kenny found himself growing intrigued. 

“After Butters said it...I figured where was the harm in just _telling_ her I was dating someone, right? So that’s what I did, but then I discovered the reason she was even trying to find me a date was because of Shelly’s stupid wedding.”

“Wait, what?” Kenny furrowed his brow. “What does your sister’s wedding have to do with your love life?”

“She wants me to have a date.”

There it was. Full blush blooming across Stan’s face, lips clamped together as he tried and spectacularly failed to keep his frustration and embarrassment contained. 

“She’s just – such a fucking bitch about this whole thing! Mom and dad have been catering to her every whim and I know it’s just because she’d throw the biggest tantrum if she didn’t, going on about how I’m the _favourite child_ , like she’s still fucking twelve.”

Kenny coughed on the smoke in his lungs as he started to laugh. 

“So now mom wants me to bring you as my date to her wedding because _apparently_ she doesn’t want her _loser brother_ there when he’s single, because it _looks lame_ or some shit.”

"You assume I’ve already said yes.”

Stan fell silent. The redness in his cheeks _darkened._

“What is it?” Kenny asked as his grin grew wide. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”

“Oh, come on, Stan, you’re the world’s worst liar. Get it out your system, I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“I...” the blue eyes flickered away. “I kind of...already told her it was you.”

Kenny stopped. His brows raised high, not laughing only because he was so taken by surprise. 

“You’d _said_ you’d do it for five bucks, and I kind of panicked when she asked, so...?”

He raised the cigarette back to his lips and took one long, slow drag. 

“Dude don’t be a dick just – put me out my misery and answer my question.”

“No.”

“No?!”

Kenny smirked up at the other man. “Not for five bucks.”

“But – then what?”

“Hmm,” Kenny tapped his chin. “It’s not often I have you in the palm of my hand.”

“Kenny, come _on_ , I’m only in this mess because of you!” 

“No, you’re in this mess because you decided to listen to Butters,” Kenny argued with a laugh, offering the cigarette across to Stan. He watched the way the other man took a drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs, before releasing it into the air through pink lips. “I’ll have to think on it, I suppose.” 

“You’re only saying that so you can come up with some dumb, embarrassing thing for me to do.” 

“Stanley, you really think that low of me?” 

“Yes. I do.” 

Kenny laughed. “I wonder what I did to give you that idea?” 

“I can think of a few examples.” 

“Maybe I should have you owe me a favour,” Kenny suggested with a smirk. “A no strings attached kind of favour.” 

“I could pay you ten bucks instead of five?” 

“Hmm, no, I’m liking this favour idea,” Kenny decided as he tapped the end of the cigarette to dispose of the excess ash. “Because then maybe my favour will be that I borrow twenty off you in a time of crisis.” 

“You’re such a dick.” 

“That’s no way to talk to someone who you’re asking for help from.” 

Stan gave a low groan of annoyance. “Kenny...” 

“Yes?” 

“I...” the man drew in a breath before he looked up through dark lashes, brows pulled down with blue eyes fixed on Kenny’s face. “I really, _really_ need your help.” 

He steeled himself as he felt his resolve beginning to crumble. He promised himself that he wouldn’t cave for the Marsh puppy-dog eyes. “Have you even said please yet?” 

“Please, please, would you do this one thing for me?” 

“How about, ‘please, I’ll do anything for you’?” 

Stan’s pitiful look broke for a moment of annoyance, before it was back in place full force, catching Kenny off guard. “Please, I’ll do anything for you.” 

A wicked smirk began to spread across Kenny’s lips. 

“Within reason.” 

“What’s reasonable for me, or what’s reasonable for you?” 

“You know the answer to that.” 

“Right, what’s reasonable for me, then,” Kenny announced. “Will you begging like that be part of the boyfriend experience? Because I think I’d say yes in a heartbeat.” 

He delighted in the way a pink flush took over Stan’s face, blue eyes finally breaking the staring contest as he looked away with a scowl. “In your dreams.” 

“Oh? I have permission to dream about it, then?” 

Stan gave him a shove, lips twitching upwards. “You’re such a – fuck, this is horrible.” 

“Alright, alright,” Kenny relented, deciding he wasn’t going to push his luck. “I’ll be your boyfriend for your sister’s wedding.” 

“Really?” 

Shit, it was hard to resist the other man when he looked so grateful like that. “Yes, really. It’ll be fun. I love your sister. She’s such a barrel of sunshine.” 

“Ugh, I hate her so much. You know, I probably do owe you a favour, considering I’m asking you to spend a whole two days with my family.” 

“Two days?” Kenny enquired. 

“Yeah, we’ll stay the night at the hotel.” 

“All expenses paid for holiday? Sign me the fuck up.” 

The cigarette burned down towards his fingers, and he offered it to Stan for the last taste. He found himself once again watching the way the man smoked, eyes slipping shut as he savoured the very last dregs. 

“We should go back inside.” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

“Can I tell Cartman?” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “I’d rather you didn’t.” 

When they returned to their table, it was to a heated discussion between Kyle and Cartman on the political situation in a country that Kenny honestly had never heard of. Stan reacted immediately, reminding the pair that they weren’t allowed to talk about politics, especially not when they were unsupervised, which Cartman helpfully pointed out wouldn’t have started if Stan hadn’t ditched them together. He used some pretty choice words, too. 

The agreement that he’d made was pushed to the back of his mind as he slipped back into his seat by Cartman, helping change the topic by asking Kyle about his residency, giving himself a small mental cheer of victory by how quickly Kyle moved on, rambling on about the people he didn’t like and the people he did. 

He didn’t speak to Stan again about it for some time, and he made sure that he didn’t tell Cartman, just as he’d promised. 

\--

He didn’t have to tell Cartman. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, if Stan had told Kyle, who had told Cartman, with probably full self-righteous disapproval he was known for, or if Stan had told Butters, which would’ve been a colossal mistake on Stan’s part if his goal was to keep it from the brunette. 

Kenny was hanging out at the Cartman household, sat on their couch watching RuPaul’s while his mom was out working. They had an assortment of snacks on the table, though he was currently stealing the popcorn that was in Cartman’s lap. Cartman, who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far, hardly speaking when one of the Queens said something particularly bitchy or dumb. 

“What’s up with you?” Kenny asked with his eyes glued to the screen. He’d known Cartman long enough that if you needed to have an emotional conversation with him, you needed to disguise it as something unattached. 

He heard Cartman shuffle around in the seat next to him; the mental process of deciding how he was going to phrase whatever it was on his mind. When he did finally speak Kenny had to actively stop himself showing weakness with how _confused_ he was. 

“Don’t shit the bed, Kenny.”

The blonde scoffed as he reached out for more popcorn. “What the hell are you talking about, Cartman?”

“I know you’re being Stan’s faggy date to his sisters dumb wedding.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you?”

“You’re gonna fuck it up and then Stan will never hang out with us again and I’ll be left with just you go hang out with.”

“He’d take Kyle with him, though. Isn’t that like, your dream?”

“Kyle can be dealt with independently.”

“I don’t know why you’re making a big fuss,” Kenny muttered. “It was your idea.”

“It was a _joke,_ Christ, do I have to put fucking warnings on things so you two gaywads don’t latch onto it as some dumb excuse?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You’re a fucking dick, Kenny.”

“So are you,” he finally turned to look at Cartman, giving up on following the episode they were watching. “Besides, I still have time to change my mind.”

“But you’re not going to.”

“I might.”

“No, you totally won’t, because you’ve been waiting for an excuse to let Stan dick you for years.”

A smirk began to spread across Kenny’s face. “Awfully concerned about mine and Stan’s sexual relationship, aren’t you?”

“You don’t _have_ one.”

“As far as you know.”

“Kenny, I’m seriously, don’t _shit the bed_.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this seriously all that’s been bothering you? It’ll be fine, Cartman. I’m not going to _shit the bed_ , I promise, it’s just gonna be me hanging out with him for a day or two like normal. You don’t need to worry.”

Cartman look unconvinced, but didn’t argue. Kenny could hardly blame him. 

His fears weren’t exactly unfounded. Kenny _was_ attracted to Stan, in some capacity, and he wasn’t blind. Or at least, he was more aware of his friends than they might like. The attraction was mutual, but so we’re so many other aspects of their life. They shared friends, lived in a small town, shared a childhood together. The fact that their little quartet plus one managed to survive high-school was nothing short of a miracle. 

There had been blips. One particularly rough fight between Kyle and Cartman that had ended the former suspended and the latter sent home with some pretty severe injuries. A rough patch from Stan that started with him hanging out with Henrietta and quitting the football team. Kenny’s own poor time management, when he nearly was forced to repeat a year after spending the time he should have been sleeping working instead. A brief stint of Butters getting way too close to Craig Tucker in a way that made them both insufferable. 

But they managed, somehow, to come out of it all still together. Cartman and Kyle ended up in anger management therapy together. Cartman created a master scheme for them to trick Stan back into sports, while still managing his interest in mildly depressing music. Kyle and Butters helped Kenny cram for exams in a way that nearly had his brain short circuiting. Kenny slotted himself quite neatly between Butters and Craig to guide their _little thing_ into something that was less annoying. 

These four people were some of the most important people in the world to Kenny, and he knew Stan felt the same. 

The idea of _acting_ on his attraction? Never an option he considered. 

“Seriously...” he muttered late into the night once he heard soft breathing from Cartman with the occasional muted snore. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

It left him with a ball of lead sitting in his stomach. 

\--

He was on one of his shifts, finishing up an order to be taken out front, humming to himself as he did so. All he had really heard from Stan in regards to his sister’s wedding were the dates and the location so far, in the form of an e-invitation. He made the assumption that anything else Stan thought was important he would share. He was trying not to think about it too much. 

He took the plate to the window, only to find the server there already with a smile. “Hey, your friend is here to see you? Something important, he said.”

“Which friend?” he pressed as he looked into the seating area of the restaurant. 

“That one,” she pointed over to the bar, where he caught sight of one Stanley Marsh waiting, tapping a finger against the counter with a scowl on his face. “Seemed important.”

“Thanks, Sally.”

With little else to say she took the plate and headed towards the dining area, finding the table with a bright smile and a flourish, customer service face in place. He ducked into the kitchen to check the other chef on duty was okay with him taking five minutes, before disappearing into the front. 

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a tacky place like this?”

Stan gave a worn smile at the greeting. “Sorry to bother you at work, dude.”

“Sally said it sounded important?” Kenny crossed his arms on the counter, facing Stan head on; eye to eye. “What’s up?”

“Well...” Stan grimaced and Kenny just _knew_ it meant it was about their little arrangement. “I was wondering what time you finish at work tonight?”

“About ten o’clock, why?”

“Damn it.”

“What is it?”

“Shelly wants to see you,” he explained with a scowl. “I think she’s trying to get the people side of the aesthetics down. God, I hate her.”

“Well, why don’t you bring them here for dinner, then?”

Stan stopped. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Seriously, that way she gets to see me tonight and I get to meet them as your boyfriend without actually having to sit down for a full dinner. Sounds perfect.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to sit down with them for a full dinner.”

“They’re your _family_ , you have to sit down with them for full dinners all the time.”

“Yeah, and I hate it.”

Kenny shrugged. “You don’t have to, it’s just a suggestion. I can always send you my rota, and you can find out what days I’m off from that.”

“You have dumb shifts.”

“Not all of us can land nine to fives, Stanley,” he teased as he pushed himself off the counter. “I’m going back to work.”

“You’d be a terrible boyfriend.”

“Well for tonight, I could be _your_ terrible boyfriend,” Kenny suggested with a wink. 

It didn’t surprise him in the slightest when not ten minutes later, he had a text from Stan to tell him to expect his family for dinner. 

Maybe he was a little nervous. Sure, he’d served the Marsh family before, he’d served a _lot_ of his friends families before, but this would be the first time he saw them as Stan’s boyfriend. The longer he had to wait for their arrival, the more reality sunk in. 

What was he _thinking_ , agreeing to this whole charade? Cartman was right, he was so _not_ the right person for this job, and he was the world’s _biggest moron_ for ever agreeing to it. It had been a joke. When he sent that text, it was as a joke, and when Stan had cornered him outside Skeeters it had kind of still been a joke. Somewhere in the back of Kenny’s mind he had flipped between ‘funny haha’ and being too infatuated with the idea of being Stan’s arm candy for a day. 

This wasn’t a day. This was turning out to be more than just _one day_. 

“Order!”

He startled at Sally’s voice, heading over to take the slip from her and knowing instantly that it was the Marsh’s. Stan ordered the same thing every time he visited, even when he was with his family. 

“Its your friend from earlier.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kenny muttered as he bit down on the inside of his mouth. “Where are they sat?”

“Table 36, by the window.”

“If I have time, I’ll take it over to them.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself.”

He worked with the other chefs still there, preparing the order to go out somewhat together. He collected the first few plates, Sally rolling her eyes at him and heading over to assist. She approached the table with that peppy attitude he liked to mock her for, though right now it helped anchor him to reality. 

“Here’s the last of it,” Kenny announced as Sally disappeared, placing one dish in front of Sharon, and the last in front of Stan. Stan, who looked up at him with those beautiful blues, and he remembered how he’d ended up in this situation to begin with. 

“Thanks, dude.”

“No problem, _babe_.”

The flush that spread across Stan’s face made his nerves begin to settle. The entertainment it gave him made it worth it, at least. 

“Kenny, thanks for coming to say hello,” Sharon greeted with a smile that reminded him so much of Stan’s. “And thanks for inviting us to dinner!”

“I hope you enjoy it, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to see you. I finish work late this week.”

Her smile widened at his words, but before she even had a chance to respond, Kenny found himself being forced to spin round by another woman. 

Shelly Marsh was someone he’d watched go from being a bratty teenager with braces and bad acne, to a bratty adult without braces and a better sense of fashion. Her relationship with Stan was not one he envied, bonding only from a mutual suffering at the hands of Randy Marsh’s crazy schemes. He’d seen her kick a kid’s teeth in for picking on Stan, only to then turn round and give Stan a wedgie. 

He knew to steer clear of pissing her off, but that didn’t mean he knew how to handle having her pull out a ring of fabric swatches that she pinned to his work uniform with her hands and begin to flip through. 

“Uh...?” Kenny glanced down to Stan, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, refusing to watch. “What’s happening?”

“I need to know if you’d look good in lavender.”

“Oh, I do,” Kenny confirmed with a nod, relaxing into the position, fabric still pressed against his collarbone. “I look good in most purple shades, honestly.”

“Good. Dad said it’s not _in budget_ to put you in the same outfits as the rest of them, but you’ll still be matching.”

“Oh – come on, mom, you said this wasn’t necessary!”

Shelly scoffed at her brother’s complaint. “Screw you, turdbrain, that was before we found out that your boyfriend was Kenny. We don’t have to worry about ‘scaring him off’, or whatever.”

“You didn’t need to spring it on him while he’s at work, Shelly, I’m sure he needs to get back to the kitchen eventually,” Sharon scolded. 

“I’m happy with this anyway. Kenny, Stan will tell you when the fittings are, and you can come with him so we can get your outfit sorted.”

Kenny raised his brows, but forced a smile onto his face. “Cool, sounds like fun. Anything for the bride, am I right?”

She preened under his words, despite her snarky reply. “Don’t act like it’s difficult.”

“You can go back to work,” Stan offered quietly as Shelly disappeared to her seat. “Leave now while she’s satisfied.”

Kenny only laughed at his friend’s misery. “Thanks, I hope you enjoy your food. ”

He didn’t leave. He looked up to say goodbye to Stan’s family, only to get caught on someone’s expression. He stopped still as his eyes met those of Randy Marsh, staring across the table a little lost for words. The uncharacteristically quiet Randy. Staring at him like he was trying to work out a puzzle. A very complicated puzzle, and Kenny was struck with the fear that maybe they were being a little too casual. 

“Dad, what are you looking at?”

Randy turned his furrowed brow down to Stan, before back up to Kenny. “Sorry, son, I just...I was expecting if you were gonna go gay for one of them, it’d be the ginger one.”

Kenny had to bite down on his lip to stop a bark of laughter escaping his lips as the table descended into chaos. 

“Oh my god, dad, what the fuck you – you can’t just _say that_!”

“Randy we’ve had this conversation already, I _told you_ it was Stuart’s son, not Gerald’s son.”

“Yeah, but then I thought maybe I’d just got them mixed up and Stuart’s kid was the ginger one.

Shelly gave a low whistle, capturing Kenny’s attention and fixing him with a pitying look. “I’d leave now.”

“Right,” he clicked at her before patting Stan on the shoulder. “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

He had to stop himself from straight up running away from the table, leaving the family to bicker amongst themselves, catching the beginning or Randy’s defence of ‘well they’re practically the _same name_ ’. He ducked back into the kitchen, letting out a breath of air and taking a moment to recover before he drifted over to the window. 

He glanced out to try and catch sight of the family at their table. Sally was there already on the other side watching it all unfold. 

“What’s going on there?”

“Just a childhood friend. His dad’s pretty rowdy.”

“I’ll say,” she muttered. “He better not cause me more work.”

“Smile, Sal, you’re on shift! Gotta get that sunshine smile of yours going.”

She turned with a bright grin, real enough to fool most customers, before saying: “Fuck you, Ken.”

He watched her disappear to wait tables, then cast his gaze to the Marsh family for a brief moment. He shook his head before returning to work and deciding that it probably could have gone a _lot_ worse than it did. 

If the biggest concern was going to be that he got mistaken for Kyle instead, he’d count himself lucky. It wasn’t like he was actually going to be offended by that, given that they weren’t _actually_ dating. If anything it’d be a brilliant new way to embarrass Stan, telling Kyle that Randy had expected him. 

The rest of his shift went with little fuss. An hour later found Sally at the window flagging him down, telling him that his friend was back at the bar. He risked going out without checking, and his shoulders relaxed as he saw _just_ Stan. 

Outside he could see the rest of the Marsh family waiting. 

“How was your food?” Kenny waggle his eyebrows. “Are you here to pay your compliments to the chef?”

“It was good, thanks. I’m sorry about my dad. And my sister.”

“Being mistaken for Kyle? He’s gonna give a man a complex.”

Stan buried his head in his hands. “Out of all the dumbass things I thought he was going to say that was not one of them.”

“I’m gonna tell Cartman.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Also? Try not to be such a blushing virgin when I call you babe, yeah?”

Stan snapped his head up with a glare. “You caught me off guard!”

Kenny snorted. “What were you expecting? Do I need to give you warnings for next time?”

“Maybe!”

“Here’s a warning,” Kenny started as his eyes flicked towards the window, seeing the family still there, Shelly peering in through the window to try spot Stan. “I’m going to kiss you on the cheek, so it looks like a goodbye kiss. Think you can handle that?”

Stan’s face began to darken, yet...he nodded, briefly.

Despite the fact that Kenny had his own warning in the form of alarm bells going off in his brain, he leant forward, swiftly as he could, leaning across the bar to peck Stan. Maybe he went a little closer to his lips than planned, but... 

Who could blame him? He’d agreed to this farce now, maybe he should just... _ enjoy it? _

He pulled back, face still hovering dangerously close, smirk on his lips. “Well done, you handled that well.”

“I’ll text you the times for the fittings.”

“Sure thing. See you later, _babe_.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Kenny laughed as Stan turned and headed out the door, watching him greet his family before the four of them disappeared. It took Sally exactly five seconds to be casually leaning against the bar by his side, ready to finally have one up on him. 

“Your _friend_ , huh?”

“Yeah, my friend,” Kenny reached out to pull on her ponytail. “So don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Do you give all your friends goodbye kisses?”

“Only the ones that’ll let me. Why, you looking for a smooch, kid?”

The rest of his shift was uneventful, and he wasn’t surprised when he collapsed on his bed at his shared apartment to find a text waiting for him from Stan, detailing a time and date for fittings, with the promise he’d pick Kenny up.

\--

Kenny was waiting outside at the time they’d agreed, grin on his face as the familiar car pulled up outside his apartment building, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. Stan had barely stopped before Kenny was opening the passenger side door, drawing a laugh out of him. 

“Why are you so eager?”

“A fitting,” Kenny explained. “Sounds so fancy.”

“Shelly’s just super anal about it all.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed, I hardly hear you talk about it.”

Stan rolled his eyes with a lopsided smirk before he pulled out the parking lot and started on the journey. 

It didn’t surprise Kenny that the fitter wasn’t in their town. Instead it was the next town over; something fancy and French sounding, and they met Sharon at the door. She greeted Kenny with the same enthusiasm as before, brief hugs and mothering smiles. 

She explained to them that the fitter was finishing up with Randy. Shelly was in the lobby when they arrived, texting on her phone and barely spared them a passing glance. It was instead Sharon who took them to the counter to explain that Stan was booked in after his father. 

Kenny followed them in a wistful kind of awe. 

“Dude, this place is so high class,” he muttered as he and Stan were pointed to wait on the couches with Shelly. “It must be so expensive.” 

“It is,” Shelly barked out from across the table. “And the clothes they make are flawless, so it’s well worth the price.” 

“She convinced dad to get you a suit.” 

“What?” Kenny darted his eyes between the siblings. “That’s - you really don’t-?” 

“It won’t be fitted, they do just standard sized suits, too. I’ve picked the one I want for you, to match Stan, with the tie to match his waistcoat, too,” she explained. “You’ll go home with it today.” 

Admittedly, he was kind of grateful. He wasn’t sure he owned anything that would fit to _Shelly Marsh’s_ standards, if this place was anything to go off. 

Randy was grumbling to Sharon as they reappeared from the fitting rooms, catching the attention of the kids. 

“But _Sharon_ ,” he started with a whine. “Does Stan really need his own suit? He has suits!” 

“You said Shelly could have whatever she wanted,” Sharon advised with a scowl. “Just because you were high when you said it-?” 

“I wasn’t _high,_ Sharon, I remember it.” 

“You can remember things and still be high, Randy!” 

“Whatever Sharon.” 

A smile spread across her face as she turned to Stan and Kenny, and he couldn’t help but feel a little threatened. “Okay, Stan, it’s your turn.” 

Kenny leant in to whisper to Stan: “Please don’t leave me out here.” 

Stan took pity on him, and dragged him into the fitting room. 

It looked just as fancy as the outside. All light wood and cream walls and long, expansive mirrors. The fitter appeared, a middle-aged well-dressed man, who gave Stan the suit that had been made and instructed him to change behind a screen. 

Kenny waited as patiently as he could as he took in the room. Even the carpet looked way too pricey, with swirling patterns that were intentional and not just accidental spills. 

“Alright,” the fitter said, drawing Kenny’s attention back to the screen, only to find Stan had stepped out into the open. “Stand just here, please, and I’ll see if we need to make any further adjustments.” 

Stan stepped up to a raised platform in front of the mirrors, and if Kenny wasn’t too busy being hopelessly distracted, he probably would’ve laughed at the expression that he wore. 

As it was, he was _way_ too distracted to look at Stan’s face. 

He wasn’t sure which part took the air from his lungs. It might’ve been the colour, lilac giving him this picturesque look with his black hair and blue eyes. Maybe it was the fit of the suit, the way it complimented his shape so nicely, fitted to near perfection. Stan in a suit wasn’t something he’d seen since they were teenagers, when they were awkward and wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit.

“There we are,” the fitter announced as he took a few steps back. “How does that fit feel?”

“Fine?” Stan turned to look at the mirror, and Kenny actively stopped himself making a noise of appreciation at the view from the rear. “Feels like a suit.”

“Hang there a moment, I just need to fetch the ties that the bride requested, and then she’ll have the final approval on it.”

The fitter disappeared and Stan turned back round, Kenny’s eyes snapping up to his face. Stan held his hands out, awkward smile on his face as he asked: “How does it look?”

Kenny moved without much thought. His brain was too occupied with the view to really process what he was doing. His hands traced the fit of the arms, round his shoulders and across his chest before dipping down, eyes following the movements as he admired the feel of the suit, as well as the feel of what was underneath it. 

Lord help him, was he appreciating what was underneath it. 

“What are you doing?” Stan hissed through his tense smile. 

“Just playing the part,” Kenny said with an innocent grin. “Infatuated lover an’ all that.”

“I think you can do that without-?!”

Kenny chuckled, grin turning sinister as the pinkness began to settle into Stan’s cheeks, dragging his hands up the collar of Stan’s suit jacket. “Without, what? ”

“Putting your hands all over me?”

“Hey, if I’m gonna do this, you should at least let me cop a feel, right?”

The way Stan spluttered, going ridged, was nothing short of hysterical. The pinkness in his cheeks only darkened as he looked over Kenny’s shoulder when the door to the room reopened. Kenny turned round with an innocent smile to see the tailor step back into the room, brow raised disapprovingly despite the knowing smile on their face. 

“I take it the fit has your seal of approval?”

“Definitely.”

Stan grumbled unhappily at the inflection in Kenny’s tone, despite the growing smile on his red face.

Kenny was forced to take a step back as Shelly followed the fitter into the room, Sharon close behind her, despite the fact that Shelly didn’t seem to need any help making decisions. Kenny watched as they discussed the different ties and colours that were pressed to Stan’s neck, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself _giggling_ at the look on Stan’s face. 

When their eyes met, Kenny waggled his eyebrows, and Stan glared back at him. 

“Kenny, come with us,” Shelly instructed as she went to leave the room. “They need your size so they can get the suit for you to take home now, and also your tie.” 

He tried not to think about the price tag as Shelly helped him sort out his wedding attire, Randy Marsh behind them sure to fire in with the far too loud comment of ‘ _oh come on, do clothes_ really need to be this expensive?’ and Kenny found himself agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“This wedding’s gonna run me into the ground,” Randy muttered as he handed over his credit card, wrapping an arm around Kenny’s shoulder and pulling him close. “Take my advice, if you ever have a kid, make sure it’s a boy. He’s had like, two requests for this wedding, and both of them had no price tag attached. If it’s a girl, just abort it and try again.” 

“Dad!” 

“I suppose you’re right, Shelly, Stan and Kenny would adopt, so they get to pick,” a dreamy look crossed Randy’s face. “Damn, maybe that’s where I went wrong...?” 

Shelly grabbed Kenny’s wrist as she dragged him away from her dad. “Gosh, you’re so embarrassing, I don’t know why you can’t just be happy for me!” 

By the time Stan re-joined them, Kenny thought that maybe he might start crying. His _boyfriend_ was quick to swoop in to save him, grabbing hold of Kenny’s suit and then Kenny’s hand, announcing to the room at large that they were done. 

“Quick, while they’re fighting,” Sharon advised as she pushed Kenny out the door. “I’ll text you boys later, okay?” 

Kenny was dragged down the steps in front of the building to the main street, laughter bubbling in his chest as Stan glared at the place over his shoulder, muttering obscenities under his breath. 

“Can’t even last one fitting without arguing about money, Jesus. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise to me,” Kenny said with a shrug. “If anyone’s used to families arguing, it’s gonna be me.” 

Stan let out a sigh of relief as he dropped Kenny’s hand and rearranged the suit bag in his hands “I guess. Thanks for coming along.” 

“No problem!” he ducked closer to Stan, wrapping an arm round his waist, settling a hand on his hip with a grin. “Meant I got to prepare myself for just how _dashing_ you’re going to be at the wedding.” 

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“So you’ve said,” he purred, hand beginning to wander down. “And like I said...least you can do, right?” 

He got a handful of Stan’s ass and _squeezed_. 

He thought that Stan probably punched him in the arm hard enough that it would leave a bruise, and Kenny had to dodge away from being grabbed round the collar by the red-faced man, grin wide on his face as he skipped ahead a couple of paces to put some distance between them. 

If he was going to get chances to make Stan blush like that, then the weekend would definitely be worth it. 

\--

Hanging out in their little group felt normal, compared to being manhandled by Shelly and mistaken for Kyle by Randy. They could pretend like they weren’t playing with fate by pretending to date for Stan’s family, and return to their normal status quo of friendship dynamics. 

They always made the effort to get together once a week, and despite Stan’s preparations for his sister’s wedding they were still there, sat round the dining table in the Cartman household, deck of cards spread out between them. 

He was the one who ruined it. 

They were talking about their weekend plans, Cartman lamenting the fact that he had nothing to do with his mother picking up an extra shift on Saturday, and Kyle admitting that he also had picked up an extra shift, though he didn’t seem to bummed about not being able to spend _quality time_ with his friend. 

Butters spoke up, smile on his face as he suggested: “Well, the four of us could do something without Kyle, couldn’t we?” 

“We set off for Shelly’s wedding tomorrow.”

He didn’t really register that it was the wrong thing to say until he looked up to see how still the table had fallen. Stan was next to him, eyes on his cards as his shoulders raised with the large inhale he took. Across from him was Cartman, nose scrunched up in disgust as he scoffed, folding his arms like a petulant child. Kyle was next to him with his brows knitted together, chewing on the inside of his lips as he looked off to the side in thought. 

Butters was the only one with a dreamy smile on his face as he spoke. “It’s awful nice of you to be Stan’s date, Kenny.”

“I guess I’m just an awful nice guy,” Kenny said with a grin. 

“It’s all romantic, I always thought that you’d make a good couple.”

The table shook. Butters in his chair as all eyes turned to Kyle who had knocked the table in his rush to stand up, muttering something about needing a drink before disappearing towards the kitchen. 

“Well, hell, what’s got his panties in a twist?” Butters murmured with a scowl. 

“Don’t worry about Kyle, Butters, he’s just salty that his boyfriends are going to go fuck in some hotel and he wasn’t invited.”

Stan let out the breath he’d been holding as he stood up. “I’ll go check on him.”

“Gay.”

“Fuck off, Cartman.”

Kenny lent back in his seat as he watched Stan follow after Kyle, before turning to the other two with his best mother hen look. “Maybe let’s not try to piss him off when he gets back into the room, yeah?”

“It’s not _my_ fault he’s more sensitive than a girl in menopause.”

“Eric’s right, how was I supposed to know he’d get all upset?”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “How about we just focus on the game, instead?”

Butters let out a disappointed sigh. 

“Fine, seeing as Mr Sensitive is too busy being a whiny piss baby then I’ll-?”

“Then _what_ , Cartman?”

He snapped his mouth closed at Kyle’s words, narrow stare turning to the redhead. They waited for Kyle and Stan to take their seats again before Kyle turned to the group with a tense smile. 

“Who’s turn was it?”

“Uh, Butters?”

“Mine!” he confirmed. “Let’s see what I can play...”

They finished their game without mentioning plans for the next day. It returned to their usual banter and bickering, bouncing back from the slip up easily. Kenny tried not to dwell on the reaction from Kyle, or the words that  Butters had said. 

Stan offered to give them all lifts home as usual before he would return to the farm. Kyle walked back to his parent’s house, Butters and Kenny jumping into the Tergidy branded car to be taken to their rented accommodation. 

Butters left first, leaving Stan and Kenny to suffer the rest of the journey in silence. 

“Sorry about Kyle.”

“Don’t worry,” Kenny insisted, deciding the right course of action was to _not_ talk about it. “What time are you picking me up tomorrow?”

“Ugh, like, nine am or something? Which means I have to leave the farm _way_ too early.”

“Sorry for your inconvenience,” Kenny drawled with a grin. 

“I mean – you could just stay at the farm tonight, if you’re packed?”

He hesitated. He had a good excuse to say no; just pretend he wasn’t packed. “Yeah, I’m packed.”

_ Damn it, Kenny.  _

“Thank fuck, that’ll give me an extra few hours of sleeping in,” Stan said. “I’ll let you grab your stuff then?”

Stan waited in the car for him as he wandered round his flat gathering his things. Evidence of Craig’s evening was littered round the living room haphazardly, a good sign that the chaos duo of Clyde and Tweek had been round to bother him relentlessly. 

He left without trying to find his flatmate, opting instead to leave without having to explain where he was going. Stan was still there waiting for him, and offered for Kenny to change the music while they started the long drive out to the farm. 

The converted barn that Stan lived in next to the main house was quaint. Small, given that it was an old barn, but pretty big considering Stan lived there on his own. He’d always complained that it was too close to the house his parents lived in, which was fair, given that they were the only neighbours he had, yet he’d never made an effort to move further away. 

Kenny suspected the reason was his love for his parents, as much as he said he hated his dad. There was a responsibility that Stan had for his dad that Kenny never had for his own. An obligation to be there as Randy Marsh continued his spiral of bullshit, his family around him to clean up and reign him in. 

Kenny also suspected that Stan actually _liked_ living on the farm. Sure, it was miles away from town, which sucked as a kid, but now that he’d grown up with it, he always struggled to sleep when he stayed over at Kenny’s flat, which was so close to the abysmal yet incredibly noisy nightlife that South Park hosted. 

He’d grown up to be kind of outdoorsy. 

Stan set him up on the couch, disappearing up the stairs to the mezzanine where his bedroom was, and promised to wake him up in the morning. He decided that an early night was probably for the best, given that he had to spend the next day and a half exclusively with the Marsh family. 

\--

“Kenny, wake up.”

The world was cruel. Cruel, to try and disturb him with the voice of an angel when he was enjoying his sleep so much. 

“Kenny, c’mon, we’ve got to get ready to go.” 

“Dun’wanna.” 

He gave a yelp as he was rudely torn from the land of dreams by having a pillow slammed into his stomach. 

When he shot up with a glare, it was to find Stan above him with a smirk painted across his face. 

“Sleep in the car. We’ve got a few hours journey to go.” 

“I should’ve asked you for two favours,” Kenny grumbled as Stan left him to go gather his things. 

“Well you didn’t, so tough shit.” 

Sharon and Randy had left the day before, staying at the hotel for two nights opposed to the one that they would be. Kenny tried not to be too overbearing on the car journey down, setting off at nine and aiming to arrive by noon, for the three o’clock wedding. He fiddled with the radio until it was something they could both enjoy, singing along in low tones, or joining Stan in throwing his voice around for the upbeat songs. 

It was nice, spending time just the two of them, even if that time was in the car. 

The hotel was just what Kenny had imagined it would be when they arrived. Wide gardens, where he knew that the ceremony was due to be held, with a cloudless sky. Like the gods themselves feared the wrath of Shelly Marsh – not that Kenny could really blame them. 

Stan guided Kenny into the building, the pair of them careful not to knock into anything that was too _valuable_ as they made their way to reception. 

Kenny took in the fancy hall and the decorative paintings as Stan spoke to the receptionist, smile lighting up his face as someone familiar came into view. Sharon looked just as pleased to see them, half-dressed in her wedding attire. 

Actually, she looked a little _too_ pleased to see them. 

“Hi, Kenny,” she greeted with that same motherly tone she often did. “I hope the journey was okay. Stan didn’t drive too crazy, did he?” 

Kenny laughed. “No, it was fine, thanks Mrs Marsh. I think I’m pretty used to Stan’s driving by this point.” 

“I drive fine,” he insisted as he cut between them. “Mom, seriously, I nearly crash into the barn _once_ and you never let it go.” 

“You were _drunk_.” 

“Blame my bad role models.” 

She raised a brow at him, arms folded over her chest. 

“I’m talking about-?” 

“Your father, yes, I’m aware. It doesn’t matter, now that you’re here I have a favour to ask.” 

Kenny raised his brows as he exchanged a look with Stan. 

“We need you to set up the chairs,” Sharon started with a strained smile. “I’m happy to take everything down there for you, if that’s alright?”

“Why aren’t the venue doing it?”

“Shelly only decided on them two days ago, it was too short notice.”

Stan threw his hands in the air. “You’ve gotta be kidding me? What does she even need doing?” 

“She’s got these chair covers, and big organza sashes to make bows with. I’ll show you how to do it, it’s super easy.” 

“I don’t know how to make a bow with an – a _what_ sash?” 

“I do.” 

Stan turned to him with wide eyes, and Sharon’s features relaxed as she turned to him with a smile. 

“I mean, I know how to make decorative bows, cause I’ve done them for Karen a lot. I don’t mind doing it.” 

“See, Stan? You’ll be fine, Kenny can help you.” 

“Fine,” he grit out through his teeth. “What do we need to do?” 

Sharon took them through it, explaining it briefly and telling them that the chairs would be there ready in the clearing. She advised them to sort that out before they got ready, and use the room that they would be staying in that night to shower afterwards. Stan didn’t do much more complaining after that, taking the materials and seeming glad that he would get even more time away from his sister. 

Kenny nudged him as they started on the path down towards the wooded area where the outdoor ceremony was due to be held. “Sorry for volunteering us.” 

“It’s fine,” Stan sighed. “I probably would’ve ended up doing it anyway. At least you know what we’re doing. I hate the idea of doing it myself, if she didn’t like it she’d never let me live it down.” 

“You’ll be glad you picked me, then!” Kenny assured. “Bows? No problemo, I’m your man.” 

When he reached the clearing, he found himself stuck at the entrance as he took it in. Between the trees were rows of garden chairs, making a path between to the ornate gazebo that was at the front. He could imagine Shelly easy, standing there to be married to her fiancé, the chairs filled. It was something he’d get to see, soon. 

It was pretty romantic, honestly. 

Stan’s melodramatic sigh _wasn’t_ so romantic, as he dumped the box he was carrying at the back of the seating area. It still made Kenny smile. 

“Shall we?” 

“Go on, show me what to do, then.” 

Setting up was easy enough. They started with the covers, working in silence for the most part, and Kenny found himself glad for the covering of trees around them that kept the sun off them. It was unfairly warm, and when he had to wipe his brow for the sweat gathering there he appreciated that they were getting ready after setting up. 

Once all the covers were on seats, he sat next to Stan as he started to tie the first sash in a bow. It took a good few tries before Stan announced that his was _good enough for him_ , and he moved on to the second one. 

There were many instances where Kenny took over. 

“How are you so bad at this?” he asked with a laugh as he swatted Stan’s hands away. “You did the last one fine, and then you can’t do it again?” 

“It’s not my fault! I’ve never done this before!” 

“It’s not rocket science.” 

“It might as well be.” 

Kenny smirked as he finished the bow, one hand resting on Stan’s knee as he looked over at him. “Don’t pout, you can’t be good at everything, and you’ll just distract me if you look so _cute_.” 

“Fuck off,” Stan pushed him away with an awkward laugh and a red face. “I’m not _pouting_.” 

“You so are.” 

They managed to get the rest of the chairs done, and Stan did manage to get the hang of it by the end. They picked up the boxes they’d brought down to take back up with them, crossing the garden to the hotel that they were staying in. 

The room was nice, and Kenny took the chance to start stripping himself of the clothes clinging to his body while Stan shut the door, sighing out in relief at the cool air that hit his chest. 

“That took longer than I thought it would,” Stan admitted as he checked his phone. “We’ve not got too long to get ready.” 

“I need a shave and a shower,” Kenny said. “Then I’ll be done.” 

“Do you take long?” 

“Well, why don’t you shower while I shave?” Kenny suggested as he peered through to the adjoined bathroom. “Saves time, right?” 

“I suppose...” 

“What, you getting all shy on me?” Kenny grinned. “It’s on your head if we’re late for the wedding. I’ll absolutely throw you under the bus.” 

“God, I hate you.” 

It wasn’t like they’d never been naked around each other before. It was kind of something that just _happened_ when you grew up in close quarters with someone. Even as they got older, Kenny’s sense of modesty wasn’t exactly normal. 

But he wasn’t sure they’d ever been in the same room as the other one while they showered. 

Kenny pulled the razor along his skin to get a clean shave, shaking it off in the sink as he did so. He placed the razor on the side before splashing his face with water, reaching for the towel to pat down his face. 

He glanced at the glass panel that separated the sink from the shower through the mirror, pausing his every movement as he did so. 

It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t weird. He didn’t need to feel weird – he could barely even see anything from the fog of the screen. 

Or he couldn’t, until Stan’s arm brushed against the glass, wiping down one long stretch across, revealing a fragment of himself to Kenny. The curve of his lower back through the fog of the shower. 

The blonde snapped his eyes down to the sink, mentally scolding himself for losing his cool for a moment. What was it that Cartman had told him? Don’t shit the bed. Don’t do it, McCormick. 

“Hey, Kenny? Can you pass me a towel?”

“Sure!” he cleared his throat and grabbed one from the rack, turning round as he heard the shower stop, handing it out as Stan used the screen to protect the last of his modesty. 

He _tried_ to stop his eyes from roaming down to what he could see of Stan – _strong chest, water droplets, touch of pink from the heat of the shower_ – he just...didn’t try very hard. 

He stepped out the room long enough to give Stan a chance to dry down, stripping down to his boxers as he did so to prepare for his own shower. 

_ Don’t shit the bed.  _

He flashed his teeth at Stan as they passed each other. “Door’ll be open if you need the mirror!”

“I’m not a pervert like you.”

He laughed at Stan’s judgemental tone and stepped into the bathroom, and... 

He did push the door to close it, he just didn’t push it very hard. And he had said that he was going to leave it open, so was it really bad? It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t unusual to be in intimate situation with your friends and for it to be perfectly innocent. 

Except he knew that the conscious decision to leave the door open enough that Stan could see straight into the bathroom was _not_ innocent. 

\--

Seeing Stan in his fancy suit for the second time wasn’t any less breath-taking as the first. Kenny tripped over his own feet as he turned round, half way through tying his tie to see Stan standing there, ready to go, face scrunched up as he fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists.

“How do I look?” Stan asked, face full of nerves and shoulders tense. 

Kenny’s answer was prompt. “Pretty hot.” 

It eased some of the tension out of his friend, at least, as Stan rolled his eyes. “Do you need help with that?” 

“Now I do, yeah.” 

Seeing as Stan so gracefully _knocked the sense out his brain_ just by looking so good. 

He dropped his hands as Stan walked round the bed to him, blue eyes settling on Kenny’s collar as his hands took hold of the silky material. Kenny held his breath in hopes he could somehow control his heartbeat, watching the way Stan’s expression moved and shifted so easily. Maybe it was just from knowing each other for so long, but Kenny loved the way that his every thought seemed written across his face. 

It was easy to like someone when you felt like you could trust them. 

“There,” Stan took a step back. “Ready to go?” 

“Just need my shoes,” Kenny confirmed. “Do I look good enough to be your arm candy, then?” 

“Shut up. You look fine.” 

“Wow, fine, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.” 

“You look _good_ , whatever, you always do,” Stan corrected with another eye roll and a flush to his cheeks. “Let’s get going I don’t want to be late.” 

He was pleased that they at least knew where they were going. As they encroached on the ceremony space the number of people milling about grew, and Kenny took the chance to play up on their little _relationship_ a little more. 

He slipped his hand into Stan’s, grin as innocent as he could muster spreading across his face as Stan jumped and turned to him. There was that _classic_ eye roll and small smile as Stan used his hand to give a rough pull, making him lose his balance. 

“Dick.” 

“You started it.” 

Seeing the clearing bustling with people was a little different to when they had arrived before, just the two of them. The air was charged, excited chatter filling the air as Stan lead Kenny through the crowd of people to where Sharon was sat at the front. Kenny didn’t think he’d ever sat at the front for a wedding before. 

Once they arrived, Sharon stood to greet them, hands clutching Kenny’s shoulders in a way that caught him by surprise. 

“You did _such_ a good job with the chairs, thank you so much.” 

“Hey,” Stan piped up. “I helped too!” 

“You did great, Stanley.” 

He huffed out. 

Kenny just laughed at the praise. “Thanks, Mrs Marsh, I’m glad they look okay.” 

“You both look so good too! My handsome boys.” 

He leant into Stan, squeezing the fingers that were still threaded through his own, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way that Stan’s fingers twitched, wondering just how much nervousness was displayed across Stan’s face as he addressed Sharon. “He cleans up pretty good.” 

Stan nudged him in the side. Hard. But Sharon took the little saying for what it was, sitting down and turning her attention to the row behind them, where her brother Jimbo sat. 

When Stan looked down at him with a warning look, he couldn’t help the lewd smirk that crossed his face. He was right. Stan _did_ clean up good, from what he’d seen. 

They settled into their seats and watched the people around them begin to calm down. Kenny glanced up to where the groom stood, speaking to his groomsmen as they waited for the music to announce the bride’s entrance. Kenny leant in to Stan’s side as he spoke low. 

“He doesn’t look nearly nervous enough, considering he’s signing himself up to a lifetime of Shelly.” 

“He didn’t have to meet her as a teenager,” Stan scoffed. 

“Just doesn’t understand her like we do?” 

“Someone had to like her.” 

Kenny snorted. “That’s mean. She’s not _that_ bad.” 

“You didn’t have to live with her.” 

“You love your sister don’t lie to me.” 

Stan didn’t get a chance to argue with him. The crowd settled down as the music began to play from a speaker, carrying from the back of the little clearing, all the way to the front. They both turned as Sharon did, shaking her son’s arm as a wide smile spread across her face. 

Stan wasn’t the only one who cleaned up well. 

The bridesmaids came down, Kenny’s eyes skimming across each of them before he landed on Shelly. It hit him just how much she’d grown to look like Sharon in that moment, the most _adult_ that he’d ever seen her. 

She really was a radiant bride, and without the stress of preparing the wedding painted across her brow, she looked so happy. Her eyes were pinned dead ahead to where her future husband stood, teeth on show as she smiled wider than he ever remembered seeing her smile. 

Randy stood next to her, her arm looped through his, chest puffed with all the pride of a father who loved his daughter, despite it all. 

He moved to sit down next to Sharon as he handed Shelly over at the alter, and Kenny to the chance to check Sharon was okay. 

He was surprised when he got stuck on the expression in Stan’s eyes and realised he probably should’ve expected the _romantic_ to look so moved by such an intimate ceremony. His staring didn’t go unnoticed for long. 

Stan looked suitably embarrassed when he caught the smirk on Kenny’s face. Their shoulders knocked together before they turned back to the front. 

Kenny was impressed that the groom had written his own vows, catching Shelly by surprise given the way she teared up and covered her mouth with her hand. 

It took half an hour before the couple were finished, exchanging a sweet kiss before people began to be herded out to the reception hall in the hotel building. As the noise of people’s excited chatter started up and the guests began to move, Kenny was prepared to follow them. 

They didn’t. 

“We have to stay for the photos,” Stan explained. “Family photos.” 

“Do you want me to meet you there, or...?” 

Stan’s lips twitched upwards. “No, this is the part Shelly _wanted_ me to have a partner for.” 

Kenny hadn’t really quite registered the fact that their _relationship_ would be captured for the family photo album. 

He stuck as close to Stan as he could as it watched it happen, waiting for his moment with a stomach full of butterflies. He couldn’t even find amusement in the way that Randy asked Stan whether or not one of them was supposed to join the girls for their photo, too busy being _nervous_ as Stan bit back at his father. 

Shelly turned to them with a smile, and Kenny felt his whole body relax as she specifically asked for Stan. 

Kenny was totally right. Stan _totally_ loved his sister, from the way he stepped close to her, letting her link her arm through his. 

“Kenny!” 

He startled, looking over to her. 

“C’mon, we don’t have all day!” 

He stepped forward as she summoned her now _husband_ and his siblings. He was plastered up to Stan’s side, thankful when an arm wrapped round his shoulder to bring him some kind of comfort. 

“Try not to look like you’re gonna throw up.” 

“Our roles are reversed, then,” Kenny joked back in an attempt to ease his nerves. “You’re the one with the weak stomach.” 

“Hey.” 

He looked up, pleased to be able to focus in on crystalline eyes. 

“Chill, dude. You’re fine.” 

He wasn’t sure exactly how many photos he took that would be worth keeping, but he’d relaxed into it by the end at least. Relaxed into Stan. 

Sharon caught them both as Shelly took her final photos, pulling them to one side and explaining that they needed to undress the chairs. This time she did offer to help, though Kenny took the way that she was wringing her hands together as a sign that she probably didn’t have _time_ to help. 

Stan was the one who said they could do it fine on their own. 

He still fucking complained about it. 

“I can’t believe this,” Stan muttered as he dropped the last of the chair covers in the box. “She expects me to be presentable after this? I’m fucking sweltering.”

Kenny laughed. “I get why your mom suggested we got ready after putting it all together.”

“Yeah, but we still have half the wedding left to go.”

He leant against the back of a chair, smirk spreading across his face as he leered at Stan. “I still think you look pretty good. Not as good as you looked in the shower, but...”

Stan was often flustered with his flirting, scolding him for doing it where people could see, for laying it on too thick. For just being embarrassing. He didn’t know if the boy was just growing immune to it, or if there was something about it happening in this clearing, with no one around, but Stan didn’t splutter through a scolding like before. 

“I wasn’t the only one who looked good while they showered.”

It wasn’t much, but it was an acknowledgement that Stan had noticed he hadn’t shut the door properly. 

So _help him he didn’t know if he’d make it through this._

\--

They got to sit at a table with the groom’s siblings. Kenny wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be putting more effort into making their relationship look less _platonic_ , but Stan made no effort to encourage it, either. After the way Stan flirted back, he felt like he needed a break to calm his brain down before he tried any of _that_ again. 

The food was enough to take his mind of any of that bullshit though, and soon enough he felt more like he was just hanging out with Stan, rather than at a wedding with a hundred people he didn’t know. 

He wasn’t surprised when Stan began to hit the alcohol, forcing Kenny to promise not to let either of them drink too much, especially not as Stan was driving them home the next morning. He cackled when he witnessed a drunken Randy on the dance floor, narrowly missed a far too long story from Uncle Jimbo, gave Shelly brief pleasantries as she passed him back to looking stressed. 

Stan wasn’t so lucky. 

Long after the sun had set they found themselves hanging out on the chairs outside, lounging on a three seater together with no one else paying and mind. He enjoyed the way Stan angled towards him as he spoke, slouched down to bring him to Kenny’s height. He enjoyed the way his face twisted and crinkled with his every word, face telling the story just as much. 

There was a lull in the conversation that Kenny didn’t bother try to cover. He barely even registered it when Stan stopped talking, half a smile on his face as he clocked a brow a Kenny, who was just watching him. Stan didn’t call him out on it, so he didn’t bigger stopping. 

He roamed his gaze from the blue eyes to the jaw decorated with Stan’s usual stubble. Across to his lips, pink and abused from lack of care. 

Kenny wondered if they felt as rough as they looked. 

Stan’s name cut through his thoughts. He looked over to the door where a rather drunk uncle stood, beckoning his nephew. 

“You coming?”

“Do I _have_ to?” Kenny whined. “I’m so tired, and my _feet hurt._ Can’t you go without me?”

“You’re no use,” Stan scolded as he stood up to head for the building, and Kenny mourned the loss of the lips that taunted him, so far out of reach. “I should’ve brought Kyle.” 

“But you didn’t!” Kenny pointed out with a grin. “You gonna get me a drink while you’re standing up, babe?” 

“Yeah, then I’m going to throw it in your face.” 

He watched Stan go, admiring the fit of his suit pants, not for the first time that day. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked for the extra drink. 

The smile on his face widened as Sharon flopped down in Stan’s now vacant seat next to him, grabbing Stan’s half finished glass off the table and promptly draining it of it’s contents. 

“That bad?” 

“I’m so tired,” she started as she leant into him. “It’s been such a long day and I’ve had to try so hard to make sure it was flawless. My family love to make my life difficult.” 

He laughed. “For what it’s worth, I’d say you did a damn good job of making it flawless, Mrs Marsh.”

“You can call me Sharon, Kenny,” she requested. “Mrs Marsh from you now you’re an adult makes me feel old. And I can’t have my son’s boyfriend calling me that forever now, can I?” 

His laughter came out a little more nervous that time. “I guess. Have you had a good day?” 

“I have,” she turned to him with a soft smile on her face, a drunkenness in her gaze. “I’m so proud of her. She’s done so hard to plan this event, and she did a fabulous job. Not to mention her husband is lovely, and really brings out the best in her. I think all any parent wants for their child is happiness.” 

“They really are happy together,” Kenny agreed. “The ceremony was beautiful.” 

“Wasn’t it just?” her hand found his, patting it and squeezing lightly. “That’s one down, one to go!” 

His brain _stopped_. 

“Don’t look so scared, I’m only joking!” she assured with a chuckle. “I’m not expecting anything. I’m just pleased that he has you. He gets so upset when he comes to these things alone. He’s not the kind of person who does well without someone by his side. Too easy to get wrapped up in his own head, I suppose. He’s always been a little cynical, but...” 

Her smile widened and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Kenny thought maybe she was trying a slow form of torture. 

“...Watching you both makes me feel better. He’s a lot brighter when you’re next to him, you know?” 

“We’re not really dating.”

The words came piling out, and the soft look on Sharon’s face slipped to make was for confusion. 

“It’s-!” Kenny felt his mouth go dry as he tried to explain. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied – I’m sorry I told you, Stan’s gonna be-!”

“Don’t worry about Stanley,” she instructed with a softness in her voice that he didn’t think he deserved. “Why did you both lie?”

“He said there was a lot of pressure to go on these dates, so he lied and said we were together, not realising you were wanting him to find a date for Shelly’s wedding.”

She gave a frustrated huff. “That’s...maybe I was too much. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, Kenny. I will say I’m surprised, you’re a brilliant actor. You play infatuated boyfriend well.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah. I – uh – I guess that’s why he thought of me, right?”

He attempted a rueful smile. Sharon’s brows only pulled together, twitching as her eyes roamed across his face. 

Before she had a chance to voice her thoughts, a loud voice interrupted them. He turned to see Randy on approach, glass in his hand, rowdy as ever. 

Kenny braced himself for what was about to happen. 

“Let me handle this,” Sharon advised with a tight smile. “Don’t tell anyone else what you told me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re a good kid, Kenny. I’m glad Stan picked you.”

He stumbled as he stood, taking hold of the glasses on the table just to give himself an excuse to leave, Sharon greeting Randy as he fell down into the seat Kenny had left. 

His head was spinning. He really shouldn’t have asked for that extra drink. He should find Stan and-? 

“Kenny? You okay, dude?” 

He startled as his eyes met familiar blues. “Stan?” 

“Yeah?” dark brows pulled together, eyes searching Kenny’s face. He had a glass in one hand, full and waiting. “Are you okay?” 

“I am, I’m just – I think I’m a little tired.” 

“We can head back to the room, if you want? It is pretty late.” 

“You don’t have to – I don’t wanna ruin your fun.” 

“Dude, if it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve gone back to the room like, as soon as they finished slicing the cake,” Stan admitted, taking the drink Kenny assumed was for him and taking a large swig. “C’mon. We can probably take this back with us.” 

He felt like he could breathe a little easier once they’d started up the stairs towards the rooms of the hotel. Being away from the large crowed of jovial people was a weight off his brain, and he sank into the arm that was wrapped around his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around Stan’s waist when he nearly fell backwards on the stairs. 

“What did you ask me?” Kenny teased as they got to the top of the stairs. “Not to let you drink too much?” 

“Yeah, and then you left me on my own with Jimbo.” 

“For like, five minutes.” 

“Ten minutes, actually.” 

When they made it back to their room neither of them bothered to actually get ready for bed. Stan began to down the rest of the drink and Kenny wrestled it away with the excuse that it was _supposed_ to be his, finishing what was left of the drink as Stan toed off his shoes and abandoned his suit jacket in the corner of the room. 

With ties shed they wound up lying on their backs on the double bed, staring up at the ceiling as they enjoyed the silence of the room. It was broken only when Stan gave a low groan, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt and unfastening his waistcoat. 

“You looked good, today,” Kenny said without much thought. 

“Thanks,” Stan glanced at him for a brief moment. “You looked pretty good too.” 

“Shelly really went all out, huh?” 

“Ugh, yes,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d hate to see the bill for it. Way to make a big deal out of a wedding.” 

“You enjoyed it.” 

“It was still too much. I would’ve enjoyed it more if it was a little less... _everything_.” 

“Not your idea of a dream wedding?” 

“Fuck no.” 

Curiosity won out over _intelligent decision making_. “What is you dream wedding, then?” 

Stan shrugged at the ceiling. “I...never really thought about it, I guess.” 

“I would’ve thought you’d thought of your wedding before,” Kenny teased. “I remember when you were _convinced_ you were going to marry Wendy.” 

“I could drag you on shit you said as a child too, you know?” 

“Have you really never thought about it?” 

Stan shrugged. “I mean, I suppose, but never...in detail? I kind of just always assumed I’d just...go to a church and do the ceremony and then have a meal. That’s wedding stuff, right?” 

Kenny hummed in agreement. 

“Have you?” 

“What?” 

“Thought about your wedding?” 

Kenny rolled his head to look at Stan properly, only to find Stan was already looking at him. He narrowed his eyes as he considered the question, settling on the stubble that was always so present on Stan’s face. 

He had a nice face. 

“Sort of,” he admitted. “I don’t like the big fanfare, though. I’d like, go to Vegas for the weekend or something. Elope and be married by an Elvis impersonator, with two random drunk girls as witnesses that I don’t know and will never remember the names of, and then spend all the wedding money on going absolutely _wild_ instead.” 

“How romantic.” 

“It’s totally romantic!” he argued. “A weekend, just the two of us? Whirlwind romance! A declaration of love that’s for us only, no one else. No one else gets to see it.” 

“Except the Elvis impersonator and the two drunk girls.” 

“They’ll be like, blackout drunk, barely even paying attention.” 

Stan’s lips twitched as his eyes roamed across Kenny’s face. “I think I’d like that...” 

No matter how many times he tried to wet his lips, they still felt too dry, and Kenny found himself struggling to control his breathing as he imagined what it would be like, having Stan in that pristine, defined suit, but with the shackles off, free to just _enjoy_ their every moment together. 

“I guess whoever you marry will be pretty lucky, then,” Stan added with a laugh that sounded too strained, face turning back to the ceiling. “To get wooed so thoughtfully.” 

“I guess so!” Kenny agreed too loudly. “Can’t say the same for your poor bride-to-be.” 

“Look, when I know who it’ll be, then I’ll start planning it, alright?” 

“Clocks ticking, Stanley. At this rate, Butters is going to be married before any of us are.” 

“I can’t believe he’s the only one with a girlfriend.” 

“I can’t believe he’s got a _girl_ friend.” 

Their conversation trailed off, the stress of the day finally catching up with them as they came to just enjoy the silence of the room. Eventually Kenny heard the way that Stan’s breathing evened out, looking over to see those puppy-dog blue eyes shut, lips parted as air passed between them, chest rising and lowering at a hypnotic pace. 

Kenny propped himself up on his elbow and allowed himself to indulge in the moment. He allowed his eyes to rake across Stan’s form; waistcoat unbuttoned and tie long since abandoned, the buttons that had been popped open on his white shirt exposing just a few coarse chest hairs. 

He brushed his knuckle against the leather strap of Stan’s belt, a graze soft enough that it wouldn’t disturb him, fighting the urge to ghost his fingertips any further than that. 

Cartman had been right to be worried, because Kenny felt like he might rip his own heart out of his chest to stop it from hurting. 

This was the man he wanted. The man he’d wanted for way too long to be healthy. The man that his thoughts always came back around to when he thought about someone he might want to spend time with. This beautiful, terrible man... 

He allowed himself to indulge, because he knew that some time tomorrow he would be dropped off at his flat, and then it would all be over. 

He’d finally got the thing he wanted. A date with Stan Marsh. 

He wished he’d said no, because having a taste of it made it so much harder to deny himself. 

\--

When Kenny woke up, the bed was empty. He was still lying on top of it in his suit, though he’d rolled over onto the side that used to hold Stan, face pressed into the pillow that he definitely wasn’t drooling on. 

A quick glance at his phone showed a text that confirmed Stan had gone down not long ago to see his mom before they left. Kenny figured he probably shouldn’t waste any time. 

He did the absolute bare minimum to get ready. Shoved his suit into the bag he’d brought it into, well past caring about creasing it given the state of it now he’d slept in it. Settling himself into jeans and a hoody was a welcome familiarity that had him sighing with relief. 

There was nothing left of Stan’s in the room when he gave it a sweep to make sure he didn’t leave anything, so he grabbed the room key on the way out, suit bag folded over one arm, backpack slung over the opposite shoulder. A few moments of peace to himself were welcome as he took a slower pace to get to the entrance where Stan had said he would be waiting. 

He saw them standing just outside the doors. Sharon and Stan, and it didn’t look like a conversation that he wanted to be part of. 

She had her arms folded across her chest, lips pulled into a thin line as she listened to Stan, crease in her brow. She was a patient woman for dealing with the men of her family, given the way Stan gestured with his arms, face turning towards the sky as he spoke, head rolling. Kenny couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the expression he was pulling as he gave a far too dramatic shrug. 

Sharon shut her eyes as she prepared to speak, shoulders hiked up and shaking her head at whatever was being said. She held up a hand to finally cut off Stan, speaking above him. Whatever she said put an end to his no doubt weak defence. 

When she finished, she encouraged Stan to look up at her, before a melancholic smile crossed her face. She pulled him into a hug, and that’s when her eyes caught Kenny’s. 

He forced a smile and made for the doors. 

“Hey, Kenny,” she greeted as she pulled away from her son’s embrace. “How did you sleep?” 

“Pretty good, thanks. You?” 

“Very well. I should go back inside and make sure Randy’s awake. I think we have to be out by eleven,” she glanced back at Stan. “Are you heading off now?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

“I’ll see you when we get home then. Thanks for all your help, both of you,” she squeezed Kenny’s hand. “Have a safe trip home.” 

Stan wouldn’t look him in the eye. There was an edge to his face that told Kenny he was in trouble. 

He assumed that Sharon had told Stan. He didn’t dare ask for confirmation. 

He followed Stan to the car, silence passing between them as they dumped their things in the trunk before piling into the front. Kenny found himself locked in silence, curling in on himself and slumping into his seat, feeling like a child who was awaiting their punishment. 

“Do you care what’s on the radio?” 

He shook his head. “You pick.” 

“We’ll stop for breakfast half way, unless you’re hungry right now.” 

“I’m fine.” 

He was starving. 

At some point staring out the window counting the trees pass lulled him into a half-sleep. He stirred as the car slowed down, Stan pulling into services so they could grab food. They ate in the car, and continued to let the music do the talking for them. 

Kenny wondered if Stan was going to bring it up. He didn’t. 

The hours passed on the drive home before they were pulling up outside Kenny’s apartment building. He didn’t dare move at first, still slumped in his seat, knees knocking against the glove compartment as he stared up to where his window was. 

“I guess it’s time to go back to the real world, huh?”

He looked over at Stan, gaze tracing every feature of his face. The way his brows creased down, the way his lips were pulled into a thin line. The way his square jaw clenched. The way his blue eyes glittered when they met Kenny’s, those round, angel eyes that Kenny always struggled to disappoint. 

“Yeah,” Kenny forced a smile on his face, voice sounding a little dry. “I guess so.”

“She told me you told her.”

Kenny broke their eye contact, turning away and shutting his eyes, not ready to face this conversation. “Stan, look, I...?”

Stan gave him chance to speak. He never finished his sentence. 

“I’m gonna go.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Kenny snapped his seat belt off and made for the door handle. “I’ll see you later.”

The hardest part was that Stan didn’t stop him. 

\--

He started to avoid Stan. 

He knew it was bad. He _knew_ that he needed to get over himself. Stan wasn’t a total jackass all the time, maybe he’d gotten over the fact that Kenny had outed him to his mom, or maybe Kenny just needed to face the music and take his chewing out like a big boy, but he didn’t want to. 

He couldn’t go back to their weird, charged, _plastered_ friendship that was anything but friendship. 

Stan tried to reach out to him the first couple of days. A text to say thank you to Kenny. Another one to tell him that Kenny was shit for telling his mom. Another for telling Kenny he was doubly shit for not going to their games night. Another, to say he hoped Kenny was okay. 

That was the last one. Kenny responded to it with a thumbs up because he was just _that kind of fucking shithead_. 

He still saw the others. Him and Butters had always hung out together the two of them, and he thanked whatever God was smiling down on him when they decided Butters would just accepted his surface level retelling of the wedding. He felt sick to his stomach when Butters announced it sounded ‘romantic’. 

Kyle he didn’t see so much. He only reached out to Kenny once, to ask him _what the fuck_ before there was nothing but radio silence between them. Kenny supposed that if you were to avoid one half, you’d end up avoiding the other, more meddlesome one, too. 

Cartman? Cartman he would be foolish to avoid. 

They were sat sprawled out on the Cartman couch, watching more shit TV together, empty packets of snacks between them. It was his only normalcy, these moments, given that even Craig had started to comment about how he was ‘such a fucking downer’ ever since he got back. 

He wasn’t saved for too long. 

He gave a long, melodramatic groan as Cartman turned down the TV, rolling his head along the back of the couch and dragging his body to face his friend, who had his eyes on Kenny already. He _knew_ that he wasn’t going to stay quiet about it, but honestly? He was kind of expecting him to make a big show of the whole ‘I told you so’ speech, or at least do it while they were all present so that he could get maximum discomfort out of it. 

Though, Kenny supposed that they hadn’t really all been together to give him the chance. 

“What did I say? Don’t shit the bed, Kenny.”

He glared up at Cartman’s words. 

“But...”

He stopped at the concerned look that crossed his childhood friend’s face. 

“You did, and I forgive you.”

Kenny scoffed. “Oh, wow. Thanks. Your forgiveness, just what I was waiting for.”

“Ey, you ungrateful fuck, I’m trying to make you feel better!”

“Yeah, well you suck at it.”

Cartman pouted in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. 

“But...it helps, just having you here, dude. You don’t have to force yourself.”

“Whatever, you should be glad I’m still around your mopey ass. Stan infected you with his dumbass depression while you were away canoodling him and – hey! Don’t just turn the TV up bitch! I’m talking to you!”

“I know, I’m trying to make you stop.”

He was feeling unusually lucky after that was all he had to go through. He had expected a lot worse. He promised himself that when he was feeling better he would visit Stan and they’d sort it all out, and then they’d be able to go back to being their little tightknit group of friends. It would be _fine_. 

The sense of dread he got when he received a text one night from Kyle promised him he’d settled into his lucky feeling way too soon. 

“Shit,” Kenny muttered as he stood up from his place on the couch, moving towards the front door where his jacket and shoes sat. “Craig! I’m heading out!” 

His flatmate appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, bowl in hands as he narrowed his eyes at Kenny. “Dude, it’s like, one in the morning.” 

“Kyle needs me to go pick him up. I think he’s drunk.” 

Craig scrunched his nose up. “We have an agreement with you and your chaos friends.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t bring him back, I promise.” 

He _totally would_ , just to piss Craig off, and it would be hilarious. Given the way Craig raised his middle finger at him and returned to the kitchen, he bet that Craig knew it too. 

He followed the location that Kyle had shared with him, pleased that it was at least close to his apartments. The streets were full of the usual patrons of South Park nightlife, men and women falling over themselves and laughing too loudly as they celebrated the night. 

Kyle was just as bad as the rest of them. Kenny had to actively stop himself laughing at the sight. He was slumped over himself facing the ground as he sat on the curb of the sidewalk, one hand loosely wrapped round a bottle.

Kenny approached with the question of: “What are you doing out here?” 

“Kenny!” Kyle’s head snapped up fast enough that Kenny had to rush out to stop him falling over, red curls bouncing with the force. “You came!” 

“Of course I came,” he assured as he squatted down on the road. “You asked.” 

“Yeah, but I thought you wouldn’t. I thought I’d have to ring _Cartman_ , and I _hate_ him.” 

“I’m here now,” Kenny said, choosing not to dig into the question of why Kyle didn’t expect him to turn up. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“Kenny?” 

The third voice shot any amusement out his bones. 

He stood up, turning to face him head on. Kyle whined on the floor as he reached out for the newcomer, drunken happiness lacing his voice as Kenny met the blue eyes that he was so weak to. 

A couple of weeks of avoidance hadn’t made him any stronger. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Kenny gave a bitter laugh at the question. “Don’t sound so surprised. Kyle texted me.”

“I’m the only one you’re not talking to, then?” 

The words stung, but they weren’t undeserved. Kenny turned away. 

“Oh are you – you know what? Never mind,” Stan muttered as he stepped closer to them. “C’mon, Kyle, let’s get you home.” 

“I can’t believe you made it!” Kyle drawled. “I texted Kenny, because you were taking so long, and he _still_ got here before you.” 

“Kenny lives round the block. I live like, forty minutes out of town. You’re lucky I drove fast.” 

The guilt was too much. Kenny stepped forward and forced himself to speak. “I’ll get his left.” 

“Go home, Kenny.” 

The words felt like a knife twisting in his stomach. A knife that he had put there. “He’s fucking wasted, you can’t get him home alone.” 

“I’m his best friend,” Stan declared as he leant down and wrapped his arms round Kyle. “I’ll get him home.”

Kenny watched as Stan picked Kyle up and tossed him over his shoulder. There was a moment where he thought that maybe...it wasn’t worth it. Stan was pissed with him, and getting in a fight while Kyle needed them wasn’t going to help anyone.

Maybe this time the best thing he could do was to just walk away.

“Kenny...”

He looked up to see tearful green eyes, blotchy red cheeks, and hands grabbing in his direction.

“Ken...”

Kyle looked too pathetic for him to just _walk away._

“Dude, c’mon,” Kenny started as he jogged over to catch up with Stan. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t be a-?!” Stan spun round with a glare on his face. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah, you’re being a dick. Kyle needs help.”

“He _has_ help,” Stan said before spinning back round and walking again.

“Ugh...” Kyle’s arms swung loosely as Stan walked. “I don’t feel so good...”

Kenny persisted. “I’m not asking for you to chat, just, let me help you get him home!”

“Would you just-?!” Stan shuffled Kyle further onto his shoulder, drawing another low groan from the man. “-Back _off_?”

“No! This isn’t about you, it’s about Kyle!”

Stan turned to glare at him once again. “You sure? Cause it feels like it’s about _you_ , and your hero complex.”

“I don’t have a hero complex!”

“Guys?” Kyle spoke up, voice weak. “I think I might be sick...”

“Shut up, Kyle!”

Kenny huffed out as he glared back at Stan, even more pissed off about speaking in unison.

Stan took a threatening step forward. “You just want to save us all. Save me, save Kyle, but then when push comes to shove, you back out.”

“You don’t get it!” Kenny insisted. “It’s complicated!”

Stan threw his free hand into the air. “Complicated?! How is it _complicated?!_ You told her, end of story.”

“No, you just don’t want to hear the rest of the story, because you don’t want to be wrong!”

Whatever Stan was going to say was cut short. They stopped, the world going still, as the sound of retching started, followed by the splatter of something hitting the pavement. Kenny glanced round Stan’s legs just in time to see another wave of bile leave Kyle’s body and hit the floor. The floor, and the back of Stan’s legs.

“Uh...your...”

“I know,” Stan spoke through gritted teeth. “I felt it.”

Kenny at least had the decency not to speak as Stan dropped Kyle back on his feet and they turned to watch how Kyle’s head lolled backwards, pathetic ‘thank you’ spoken as his feet touched the ground. 

“We can take him back to mine,” Kenny suggested. “It’s closest.” 

Neither of them spoke as they each took an arm and all but dragged Kyle back to Kenny’s apartment. The only noise that passed between them was the sound of Kyle moaning in pain, or mumbling incoherently.

It was a long walk.

He caught sight of Stan’s car parked in front of his building. A common sight, given that Stan normally parked at his when he needed to go into town, but there was a warmth that it gave knowing that he was still doing it despite what a _colossal dick_ Kenny was being to him. 

When they got to his front door, Stan took most of the weight as Kenny rummaged through his pants for his flat keys. He opened the door and helped Kenny get the redhead to his bedroom before finally speaking.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Stan said.

“You can pick out some pants if you need them? I can get you some?”

“Nah, I’ll grab some. You just get Kyle in bed.”

“Wait,” Kyle slurred as he leant into Kenny. “I gotta – I gotta brush my teeth. I can’t sleep without brushing my teeth.”

“Dude, you don’t have a toothbrush here.”

“Kenny, don’t be a bitch, and take me to the bathroom.”

He did as he was asked, leaving Stan to raid his drawers as he waited for Kyle to brush his teeth, wrestling Craig’s toothbrush out his hands and getting his own at the last second, insisting that it _wasn’t a spare, dude, that’s not spare that’s Craig’s._ __

__

They passed Stan in the hallway, the smell of vomit following him around, and Kenny had to fight back laughter at his expense. 

__

He laid Kyle back on the bed before stripping him down to t-shirt and boxers. He guided Kyle under the covers with a soft voice and gentle hands, smirk on his face as Kyle finally looked up at him with that drunken gaze.

__

“You’re gonna regret this in the morning,” Kenny promised.

__

“Ugh, I know,” Kyle whined. “But the drinks were just – they were _so good_ , dude.”

__

Kenny laughed. “They always are. Did you have a good night?”

__

“I did.”

__

“Do you want me to get you some water? Might make the morning less painful.”

__

“I want you and Stan to make up.”

__

Kenny stopped.

__

“I know you’re like, trying to keep some kind of, status quo or whatever, but it’s dumb. We’re not going to be the same four kids forever, Ken. People grow up, and move on, and things change, and no amount of you two pretending there’s not something going on will make it true.”

__

“Kyle,” Kenny licked his lips as he tried to figure out what to say. “You’re way drunk. You need to get some rest.”

__

“I might be drunk, but I’m still right!” Kyle huffed out. “Stop denying your feelings just because you’re scared of change, because things are going to change whether you want them to or not!”

__

“You don’t get it,” Kenny hated the way his voice became raspy. Desperate. “What if it didn’t work, and we broke up, and then I lost you guys. I couldn’t – I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

__

“Kenny...”

__

He shut his eyes as Kyle squeezed his hand.

__

“Look where ignoring your feelings has gotten you so far, and tell me that isn’t already happening.”

__

It was true. As much as he hated it, he was already losing Stan. Their little stunt may have opened the box they’d kept tightly sealed, but it hadn’t taken that much to crack open. Stan had landed himself in an impossible situation of wishful thinking, and Kenny had barely put up a fight at the chance to play the part for a few days. If that was all it took for the whole thing to come crashing down...

__

It had been a matter of time.

__

When he opened his eyes and went to respond, he found Kyle already asleep. He gave a breath of laughter as he tucked the man in, leaning down just as he would for Karen and placing a kiss on the ginger’s forehead.

__

“He’s so wasted.”

__

Kenny looked up to see Stan in the doorway with a glass of water and a spare pair of Kenny’s jeans clinging to his waist. 

__

“Yet he still manages to try boss everyone around,” Kenny observed.

__

Stan scoffed and rolled his eyes, heading to the bed to place the glass down on the bedside. “Nothing will stop him telling us exactly what to do.”

__

Kenny ran a hand through his hair as he stood. “I guess that’s me on the couch for the night.” 

__

“C’mon, let’s leave him to sleep.” 

__

As the pair of them settled on the living room couch, Kenny’s mothering instincts fading into the background, he realised that it was kind of hard to run away from someone who was sat in your flat. His every muscle was prepared for flight, and the thought of just ditching Stan or suggesting that he left did cross his mind, but... 

__

Kyle’s words were echoing in his brain. He was right. 

__

Ever since they started that tense car journey home, he knew that they couldn’t go back. He knew _he_ couldn’t go back. They’d crossed a line, and Kenny wasn’t willing to return. 

__

He tried to figure out how the hell he was going to broach this topic. How he wanted to start. How to express to Stan that this thing they’d kept under control for so long absolutely terrified him. How he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself running at the first sign of trouble, should they actually date. 

__

He started with something a little less focused on him. 

__

“Why did you tell your mom you were dating me?”

__

Stan didn’t look up at him, but Kenny could see the wry smile on his face as he answered. “I thought you were gonna ask me that at the beginning. I had a big excuse prepared and everything.”

__

“What was it?”

__

“About how she’d never believe Cartman, and I didn’t think I’d be able to bluff being into Butters, and the idea of it being Kyle made me feel dirty because he’s like a brother, but you would be believable.”

__

Kenny tried not to let his heart get ahead of him. “So, basically about how I’m the only one you could convincingly fake feelings for?”

__

“Jesus, when you put it like that, it sounds like a pretty transparent excuse.”

__

He laughed, slow and quiet, not wanting to break the tension in the room. Not wanting to make Stan run away, even if it was him who had started it. 

__

“I’m sorry I dragged you into it. It was a stupid idea.” 

__

“It was fun,” Kenny admitted. “I’m glad you asked me. Your family’s pretty crazy, but not in like, a bad way. Or at least not totally in a bad way. Your mom’s nice, and your dad and sister make me laugh.” 

__

“For all the wrong reasons.” 

__

“Still funny. And spending the time with you...” 

__

Every inch of his body screamed at him to stop. To run. To _not have_ this conversation that he’d refused to have so many times before. 

__

“It being just us was really, really nice.” 

__

“It was,” Stan agreed. “Are you...ready to talk about how you’ve been avoiding me?” 

__

“No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, so...” he sucked in a breath. “Us dating would be a monumental mistake.” 

__

The crestfallen look that crossed Stan’s face caused him to panic. 

__

“Not - that came  out – just, let me finish, okay? I – I know what I’m like. I can’t promise I won’t run at the first sign of trouble, and you’ll have to like, actively fight to stop me. Fuck’s sake, Stan, my dream wedding is to _elope_ , that’s not _normal_. That my idea of wonderful commitment is to run away to do it. 

__

“I always told myself, that if there was one thing I wasn’t willing to lose, it was you. Out of all the people in the world, if I lost you, or Kyle and Cartman, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Even Butters, man, it’s a miracle we’re all together, and it’s so selfish to put all that at risk for something that I don’t trust myself with, but I _want to_ , so bad.” 

__

He ran a hand across his face and slumped back into the couch. “I thought it’d be fun, to just like...tease ourselves with the ‘what if’, but...I don’t think I can go back, now I know.” 

__

“Then don’t.” 

__

“Stan-?” 

__

“No,” he shifted on the couch to face Kenny fully, one arm resting against the back. “Do you trust me?” 

__

“Course, dude, you’re one of my best friends.” 

__

“Then trust me when I say I trust you. Yeah, okay, I also didn’t think it was worth risking everything, because sometimes I feel like we’re the only thing that keeps this friendship group together. It’s not like Kyle and Cartman would hang out without us, and I’m pretty sure if Kyle wasn’t there for Cartman to antagonise he’d drive Butters to fucking suicide, but...fuck them.” 

__

Kenny gave a bark of laughter. 

__

“Seriously!” Stan pressed despite the growing smile on his face. “If they’re that hopeless that they can’t function without us, let them struggle.” 

__

“You’re so right,” Kenny agreed. “Fuck those guys, they’re assholes anyway.” 

__

“Exactly.” 

__

“But...do you really trust me?” 

__

“I do,” Stan admitted, reaching out to take hold of Kenny’s hand. “I trust you, and you can trust me not to let you go once I’ve got you.” 

__

_ This time, when he zoned in on Stan’s lips, he didn’t have to stop himself wondering what kissing them would be like.  _

Didn’t stop himself reaching forward, fingers threading through the dark strands of hair that he always let grow a little too long, dancing along his neck. Didn’t stop his eyes slipping shut as he leant forward, tilting his head and enjoying the warmth that radiated from Stan as their noses slotted together. 

Didn’t stop Stan either, when he closed the gap and sealed the deal. 

The noise of relief that left him was nothing short of a cry. A cry of relief, that he was finally _done_ torturing himself. Torturing them both. That he could enjoy the feeling of Stan’s lips moving against his own, finally _know_ exactly how he kissed. 

He kissed just like Kenny expected; eager to please, not wanting to let go. 

There was a hand on his collar, one on his back, pulling him in closer as he ran his tongue across Stan’s lower lip, pulling it into his mouth to _bite_ ever so gently. 

He felt like he could actually cry. Like floodgates had opened up. 

_ God, how long he’d wanted this.  _

How long he’d convinced himself it wasn’t worth it. 

_ He wasn’t worth it.  _

The kiss didn’t stop when he feared it would. They fumbled as Kenny pushed Stan until his back hit the arm, Kenny looming over him, attempting to navigate the familiar sofa while in a lip lock with his best friend. He made it work. He was determined to make it work. 

“Christ, I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Stan muttered against his lips. “I - Jesus, Kenny, I’m so happy.” 

"Y’know, this couch is pretty lump,” Kenny started with a smirk. “I’ll get a pretty shit night's sleep if I stay here.” 

Stan snorted. “You trying to get an invite back to mine?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Should we really...leave Kyle on his own?” 

Kenny shrugged it off. “He’ll be fine, he knows where the front door is when he wakes up.” 

“Won’t Craig be pissed?” 

“Yes.” 

Stan didn’t take any more convincing than that. The pair raced to the front door, scrambling to get ready. The was thankful that Stan had parked so close, given that they had another forty minutes of driving before he would be able to put his hands back on him. 

He didn’t last. 

\--

Kenny was practically bouncing on the heels of his feet as they made their way up the steps to the Marsh family home, internally regretting the decision to forgo a jacket, thin sweater not doing nearly enough to ward off the weather now it was growing colder. 

Stan knocked twice before he opened the doors, announcing their arrival as if he didn’t live in the _only other house_ in a fifty mile radius. Kenny followed him inside as close as he could to get into the warmth. 

It didn’t surprise him that it was the matriarch of the family that came to the door. 

“Kenny,” Sharon greeted with a wide smile, stepping forward to offer a hug to the blonde. “I’m glad we didn’t scare you off.”

“You act like he and Stan haven’t been up each other’s asses since they were kids, mom, it’s not a big deal,” Shelly scoffed. “Stop fawning over Stan and his boyfriend.”

Kenny turned to the sister once he’d hugged Sharon. “You look good, Shelly.”

“What, for a pregnant person?” she snapped as she fell onto the couch. “If you’re gonna _say something_ at least fucking finish your sentence.”

“Yeah, you look good for a pregnant person.”

Shelly glowered at him.

“Is that Stan and his boyfriend?”

Stan rolled his eyes at his dad’s voice. “When did Kenny get reduced to my boyfriend? Shelly’s right, he’s been visiting us for years, it’s not _new_.”

“Don’t agree with me, turd, it pisses me off. You don’t wanna piss me off. I might have a miscarriage.”

Stan turned to Kenny with pitiful eyes. “We can go, if you do feel scared off. I won’t be offended. Please.”

Sharon gripped Kenny’s wrist with a strained smile. “You’re here now, you can’t get out that easily. Neither of you can.”

Kenny laughed as he was dragged into the house, Stan following close behind with a groan of annoyance as Shelly started whining about wanting another drink. Randy was there to wrap an arm round his shoulder and pull him further into the kitchen once Sharon had let go, quick to start whispering about _testers_ and _c’mon Stuart’s kid you’re not a stick in the mud like my lame son, are you?_

It felt good, to be here, having Stan try battle his way through his parents for Kenny’s attention, finally getting back to the living room where Shelly was, her fiancé still in the kitchen helping Sharon with the food, insisting that Kenny didn’t help as he did enough cooking in his day job. 

Being able to crash down in Stan’s lap on the chair he’d picked while Shelly took up the whole couch and know that he wasn’t just teasing his friend, but about to kiss his _boyfriend_? Yeah, it felt real good. 

**Author's Note:**

> IT AIN'T PERFECT BUT I DON'T CARE 
> 
> Because I had so much fun writing Kenny. Make way Kyle there's a new boy for me to project all my insecurities onto.


End file.
